100 Drabbles
by SoundOcean205
Summary: My entry for Prin Pardus's challenge!
1. Injured

**AN: I, as an author, do not appreciate flames of any sort on my work. This is strictly for fun. Now, I do however understand that some issues in this story might not be exactly to the of some readers. If you do not approve of LBGT characters and relationships, you should leave. There are hardly any heterosexual relationships in this story, save for two or three. I find an overabundance of those stories already posted on this site, and you can choose to read those instead. I would not like religious essays on why homosexuality is wrong. I will not tolerate it and I will not hesitate to block you because as a religious person myself, I find it incredibly offensive. Now, another warning. These drabbles may deal with certain triggers, including family issues, possible incest (depending on requests, I normally don't, most will be happy and fluffy vanilla drabbles.) No smut. Sorry. I do take requests!**

* * *

**1. Injured**

**Pairing: Darkstripe/Tigerclaw**

Darkstripe twitched, his tail wrapped around his paws. His ears pressed uncomfortably against his head, and he tried to resist the guilty, itchy feeling under his pelt. How he could have done this? He wasn't even supposed to be a molly, for Starclan's sake. He was a _tom_, dammit, through and through. And where was Tigerclaw? He wouldn't leave Darkstripe after this, right? What if he already knew- No. He couldn't. It's impossible! He hadn't told anyone. He hadn't even been to Featherwhisker yet. The bushes twitched, and the dark tabby's head shot up.

The massive brown tom shouldered his way through the bushes, his amber eyes dancing with something akin to warmth. After a couple heartbeats, Darkstripe realized that Tigerclaw never looked warmly at him. He took a deep breath, and instantly caught the sweet scent around Tigerclaw. Anger surged in his belly and heat pulsed through his pelt.

"You've been with Goldenflower." Darkstripe accused, not caring about the other tom's wince. He couldn't help the vile scowl on his face. Tigerclaw didn't-wouldn't... _Or maybe he did. _The small voice in his head persisted in repeating that phrase, until it became stuck like a birdcall. Tigerclaw had seduced Goldenflower.

"Maybe. What's it to you?" Tigerclaw answered gruffly, the scar on his nose wrinkling as he lip curled up into a snarl.

"I'm expecting your kits, foxheart." The words flew out of his mouth, and pain made his voice crack. Tigerclaw froze, surprise and anger flicking across his face.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to lie to those better than you?" Tigerclaw hissed, his words searing Darkstripe to his very core.

"Didn't yours teach you not to cheat on your mate?" Came the hostile comeback. Normally, Darkstripe would never talk to Tigerclaw like this. He loved the tom, he really did. He would have followed Tigerclaw anywhere. Except now, he wasn't even sure if they were mates. Tigerclaw began to pace, hissing under his breath.

"Oh Darkstripe... If only you realized how truly pathetic you are." Tigerclaw finally turned to face him. Smirking, he sauntered past Darkstripe, flicking his tail over the younger toms fur.

* * *

Darkstripe writhed against the nursery's soft nest. Electric shocks ran down his spine as he growled in agony. Oh StarClan, if this is what having kits felt like, he would be sure to never do so again. He only vaguely understood Featherwhisker's commands, following them as though it was automatic._ I wonder where Tigerclaw is... Surely he'd want to see his kits birth... _More pain. He hardly heard the soft plop, and Featherwhisker congratulating him. He closed his eyes, waiting for his body to relax. Exhaustion swept through him, and he almost sobbed with relief as the pain ebbed away. He lifted his head up, groaning as he saw a small tabby kit with a white underbelly suckling at his belly. He purred roughly, reaching over to rasp his tongue over the young newborn. Goldenflower of all cats looked at him, amused.

"What are you going to name him, Darkstripe?" He stopped, thinking for a moment.

"Thornkit?" He suggested weakly. Frostfur shrugged.

"He looks like his father."

Darkstripe looked back down at the kit. Thick dark stripes crossed against dark brown fur, and a snow white underbelly and paws peeked out from underneath him. Already the kit was showing signs of the broad shoulders and hooked claws that were the main traits of Tigerclaw. He purred. _Thornkit, Thrushkit, Lightkit, Whitekit, Hawkkit... _Hawkkit.

"Hello, Hawkkit." He gently whispered to the young tom. "You're going to be great one day. Just like your father. You're going to be the greatest tom the forest has ever seen."

* * *

As Tigerclaw's plans with BloodClan grew, Darkstripe couldn't help but feel increasingly worried for Hawkkit. By now the kit had his eyes open, and was walking around with stumbled steps. He sat, the tip of his tail twitching as he watched Hawkkit try to bat at a puddle. He knew he needed to get Hawkkit out of here. It was going to be dangerous, and Darkstripe didn't want to risk his son getting hurt. Hawkkit stumbled, falling into the puddle and letting out a sharp cry. Broken out of his thoughts, Darkstripe raced forward and grabbed him, pulling him to the nursery. As he licked his kit, he remembered his conversation with the rouge.

_"I'll look after your kit. We 'kittypets' know all about BloodClan, and I don't want to see an innocent kit get hurt."_

_"If he's hurt when I come to retrieve him, I'll end your pathetic life."_

Maybe he did need to take her up on that offer. He needed Hawkkit safe, and maybe that she-cat was the way to go.

* * *

Darkstripe's last thought before Graystripe struck him down was that he would never get to raise Hawkkit as his own.

* * *

Hawkfrost paced around the sandy clearing, chastising the Dark Forest trainees. Some battle move or another.

It was always the same with Tigerstar's kin. The bloodshed, the fighting. The cold apathy towards mates. Darkstripe pulled himself up, walking off. He continued along the forest until he caught Tigerstar's scent.

"What is it, Darkstripe?" Tigerstar muttered, clearly not anticipating the tabby to join him.

"I just wanted to say I love you." Darkstripe scuffed his paws along the ground, watching as the weight of his paws disrupted the mud and sent ripples through it.

"Pardon?"

"I love you, you stupid furball."

"I know." Tigerstar's mouth quirked just the tiniest bit. "I've always known."


	2. Sinking

Mousefur still remembered the sheen of Mistyfoot's gray coat as she would pull herself out of the river at Sunningrocks. She would always give Mousefur a warm smile, and butt her head affectionately against her pelt. Then she'd shake her fur off, laughing as Mousefur would growl as the cold droplets would hit. She still remembered the nights sitting in the nursery as kits.

"One day, I'm gonna be a leader! And you're gonna be my loyal deputy! We're gonna be fierce and brave, and we'll stay friends forever!" Mistykit would chirp, enthusiasm bubbling from her as she bounced around the nursery. And Mousekit would always nod, because _of course _it would happen. It was all her kit self knew: Mousekit and Mistykit were an inseparable duo. Oh, how Mousefur wished it could have been true.

* * *

Mousefur still didn't understand why she and Mistyfoot couldn't have been mates. It didn't matter to her that Mistyfoot wasn't a tom. StarClan, Mistyfoot could have been a bright pink vole and Mousefur would have still loved her.

* * *

Mousefur pushed her way out of the warriors' den, needing to go for a walk. She brushed past Dustpelt, who was silently guarding the camp. Mousefur ducked her head as she passed him, angry about the way his gaze seemed to be questioning her. _I'm a senior warrior, mousebrain._

She wasn't quite sure why her feet lead her to the river border between ThunderClan and RiverClan. Maybe it was all the times she had snuck out of camp, just to go to that border. Maybe she was just looking for a glimpse of that beautiful grey pelt. Maybe, somewhere deep down inside, she still hoped something could work.

When she arrived at the river, she settled down onto the rough sand of the bank. She gazed at the river, watching the way the water rippled and swirled around the stones. _Oh, Mistyfoot_... Mistyfoot was beautiful. She always had been. There wasn't any real argument about that, and with Mousefur's wiry fur, she wasn't surprised that Mistyfoot didn't find her attractive. However, Mistyfoot... Mistyfoot had the most beautiful thick grey fur. And the smell that she had lacked the fishy smell of RiverClan. Well, maybe not, but Mousefur didn't seem to mind it as much when she was around that molly. All she ever did around Mistyfoot was pray that one day she would lick Mousefur's cheek and maybe give her a pretty smile. That was all.

"Mousefur?" A surprised voice interrupted her thoughts, and she froze. No. _No._ That she-cat could NOT be swimming across the river right now to do StarClan-knows-what and make her feel all sorts of sappy feelings.

"What do you want, _Mistyfoot_?" She spat. Betrayal. Fear. Distrust. Hope. Love. _Great StarClan, I'm such a dreamer. _

"I wanted to see if you were okay." Mistyfoot sat beside her, ignoring the fact that she was now on ThunderClan territory. Due to this fact, Mousefur was debating dragging Mistyfoot by the scruff and dunking her in the river. Repeatedly.

"I'm fine." Mousefur answered gruffly, pushing herself of the ground and turning around the head back to the forest.

"Wait!" Mistyfoot called. "I wanted to talk to you, anyway!"

"Why?" Mousefur whipped around. "You said you never wanted to talk to me again! Remember that day, Mistyfoot? Remember when you cut me off while we were both apprentices because it 'wasn't right'? I have nothing more to say to you!"

Mistyfoot gasped, and the pain in it tore Mousefur to shreds. Her ears flattened and she frantically cuffed at the ground, hoping that she didn't _actually_ say that, that this was some sort of nightmare.

"Do you... Do you honestly think I didn't love you, Mousefur? Because you're wrong. Dead wrong." Mistyfoot walked up beside Mousefur, pressing against her. Mousefur recoiled, and Mistyfoot's tail drooped.

"I'll leave."

"No, you're just wet. And cold." The words, laced with forgiveness, came out of Mousefur's mouth before she could stop them. _Damn it._ But when Mistyfoot's head flung up, eyes glowing, Mousefur couldn't find it in herself to be angry with her.

_Oh, great StarClan. Ugh. Did I really think that? Again? What am I, the leader of TakeStarClan'sNameInVainClan?_

"-you know, I always thought you were the bravest person I knew." With a jolt, Mousefur realized Mistyfoot was talking to her. Had she really gotten lost in Mistyfoot's eyes? Oh come _on. _

"I always thought you were beautiful." The words felt foreign wrapped around Mousefur's tongue.

"Really?" Mistyfoot squinted her eyes, stepping closer to Mousefur. She took a step back, and Mistyfoot backed up a little bit. A_nd I'm awkward. Fantastic. I'll be scaring her away in no time._

"Yes. You have really nice eyes and shiny fur." Mousefur quickly looked away, gulping as she felt heat flood her ears.

"You think I'm beautiful because of my fur?" Mistyfoot laughed. Mousefur stormed back to the rocks, bounding up them to escape Mistyfoot's laughter. She whipped around, facing her again. Anger surged through her. _Why does she always laugh?_

"Why do you do that? Every time I try to tell you why I love you and that I love you, you sit here and laugh at me. You always have. You don't really care, do you? No, you're playing with me because you think it's fun. Well you know what Mistyfoot-"

Mistyfoot bounded up the rocks and pinned Mousefur down, peering down on her.

"I love you too, mousebrain." She licked Mousefur's cheek, and Mousefur balked.

* * *

Mousefur took the dignity of getting wet to walk- or swim- with Mistyfoot back into RiverClan territory.

* * *

She also took the damned responsibility of rolling herself in ferns and mud to hide the stench of RiverClan.

* * *

That time she had to get in the river for a completely different reason. _Damn it, Mistyfoot._

* * *

When she got back to camp, she curled up a ball on her nest, tail over her nose. Sleep came easy for the first time in moons, and later she would realize that it was because it was the first time she had ever heard Mistyfoot say 'I love you.'

She was sinking fast for Mistyfoot, and she didn't care. She knew Mistyfoot wouldn't let her drown. _Hopefully._


	3. Father

**This one's dedicated to Alissa. I hope you get to feeling better! **

* * *

Whitestorm wasn't quite sure how to feel when Thistleclaw's body was brought into camp. His father's bold shoulders shrugged, and his bloody tail dragged across the ground, leaving a small trail of disruption behind it. Disrupted. That was a good way to describe how Whitestorm felt. His claws scraped at the ground as he backed away, ears flat against his head. It was as if he was trying to block out the sounds, the whispers, the glances of sympathy. He closed his eyes tightly, shaking his head as if he was asleep, and if he shook it hard enough he'd wake up from this damned nightmare. He opened his eyes, and much to his disbelief, the scene was the same. Cats gathered round, and queens were fighting to stay in front of the nursery and keep the kits back. Whitestorm caught sight of Bluefur. She seemed almost... triumphant. Yet, she had a haze of guilt in her eyes. In that moment, he hated her. He hated her for keeping him away from his father. He hated her for hating him. The desire to claw into her face, to make her suffer for every cruel word she ever said about his father. His father was a lot of things, but he was not a tyrant. He was ambitious. He felt a gaze on the side of his pelt, making each individual hair prickle as if he had ants in his fur. As he turned his head, the amber gaze burned into him, as if it was staring at his very conscience. He ran.

* * *

He wasn't quite sure where his paws were taking him. Whitestorm ran through the forest, ignoring the scratches of branches in undergrowth. He had to get away, to escape... But where? He didn't want to leave ThunderClan. He just needed to get _away._ For now. But where? Subconsciously, his paws led him to Treecut place. Pine needles scratched at his pads. The scent of pine was heavy, and slightly foreign compared to the earthy and musty smells of the forest. He curled up under a tree, and closed his eyes. _Father..._

* * *

Darkness swirled all around him. Lights flashed brilliantly for just a heartbeat, disappearing as soon as they came. He panicked, feeling like there was nothing under his paws. Whirling around, he came face to face with Thistleclaw. His face was bloody and torn, and several patches of skin were missing from his pelt. Blood poured out of his ears and nose. Whitestorm reared back, fear imbedding itself into his bones. Thistleclaw opened his mouth to speak.

"Whitestorm!" A voice shouted, searching. He jolted out of his dream, panic flaring in his pelt. Darkness had fallen all around him, shadows cast along the pine needles. He jumped to his feet when he heard an owl hoot distantly. Whitestorm shook himself, trying to get his pelt to lie flat. It was fluffed up, and he probably looked like a beacon in the dark. He began to lick it, in order to get it to lie flat. Footsteps approached, and he turned to find Tigerclaw nose-to-nose with him.

"Why have you been out here?" Genuine curiousity. That's all he dedicated in that sincere mew.

"I didn't want to be around Bluefur." Bluntness. That's all he could manage. Tigerclaw purred heartily, sitting next to Whitestorm. Whitestorm awkwardly plopped down, suddenly greatly aware of how ungraceful he was.

"I understand." They sat in companionable silence together, listening to the crickets. After a few minutes, Tigerclaw broke the silence.

"You know, Thistleclaw was my mentor. He may have been ambitious, but he wasn't a bad cat. I lost my father, too. He didn't die, but he left the clan. Sometimes I wonder where he is now." He ended awkwardly, his sentences short and straight to the point. Whitestorm blinked, surprised that the usually brash Tigerclaw would come to him with such compassion.

"You're like a brother to me, Tigerclaw."

"You were always more."

* * *

The next morning, the only thing that could be seen was the two toms curled up beside each other, caring and comforting to their lost guardian.


End file.
